


Hunters.

by IrisRoseee



Series: Supernatural [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Men of Letters (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Parent John Winchester, Blood and Gore, Canon Rewrite, Drug Use, Eventual Relationships, F/F, F/M, Gender Roles, Gender or Sex Swap, If Supernatural (TV) Were on HBO, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Multi, The Colt (Supernatural), The Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisRoseee/pseuds/IrisRoseee
Summary: After John Winchester drops a bomb on his oldest daughter then promptly dies, it's up to Deanna to keep her younger sister safe while the two of them track down the Demon that tore apart their family, fighting monsters, and each other along the way.Familiar faces join our heroes as they navigate a predestined course toward a "gender-swapped" end that has been already written out for them.HBO femme reboot, anyone?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194971





	Hunters.

Deanna Winchester paced in a dark, stone alleyway. Her long, blonde hair whipped wildly around her. The frigid air bit into her skin, turning her nose and cheeks a bright shade of pink as she rubbed her tattooed arms through the brown leather material of her father, John’s jacket. John’s voice echoed in her mind reminding her to stick her hands under her armpits to keep them warm as she mentally cursed herself for wearing a little black dress in the first place. It had become so instinctual to her by now that whenever she was headed out into an unknown territory she would choose to arm herself with the extra weapon that had been readily available to her since birth. She didn't even consider that she’d dressed that morning in such a way until she had stepped out of the white 1967 Chevrolet Impala convertible, her black heeled boots splashing, huge droplets of dirty water upon her leg as she landed straight into a puddle beside the car. Deanna knew, as she walked up and down on those uneven bricks, that if she could pull herself together and pluck up the courage within her to go inside, that she would be greeted with undoubtedly warm air inside the college housing. However, somewhere between the state lines, she seemed to have lost her nerve, being pulled forward purely upon the necessity, rather than her own will. She sighed as she forced herself to stop her incessant pacing. _ Get it together Winchester,  _ she reprimanded herself,  _ what’s the worst that could happen?! _ Her mind raced ahead, showing to her all sorts of self-indulgent scenarios in which all sorts of horrible, yet seemingly possible things occurred; Her younger sister screaming at her, throwing all sorts of objects, calling her a coward, a fake, a weak and despicable waste of human resources.  _ Okay! Fuck!  _ She shook herself and jumped up and down on the spot, swinging her arms back and forth, and reminding herself of girls from elementary school who would limber up beside her while at the starting line in track. She inhaled sharply. She knew that realistically she really had no other option; Samantha had the right to know what she knew no matter what she then chose to do with that information, and besides, the best way to ensure her little sister's safety was to keep an eye on her. Dianna spun around and marched toward the building across the street. 

A man in a scream mask met her in the doorway of the old red brick building, pulling the mask back off his face and sitting it on the top of his head, he held the door open for her. 

“Thanks,” she said politely as she ducked into the brightly lit hallway behind him. 

“Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it.” The man said, turning and looking back at her as he shut the door behind him, a sly grin upon his face.

The hallway had numbered wooden doors uniformly sitting on either side. A few of the university's students littered the corridor, all of whom were evidently anxious to try their fastest to leave for any Halloween plans they had made. A short girl who was dressed as Mario tied her shoelace out the front of the door marked with a brass the number eight, her two friends huddled a foot away from her as they waited patiently. The man dressed as Luigi appeared to be the first to notice Deanna as she approached.

“You’re going the wrong way.” He remarked, gesturing to the front door behind her with the opened beer bottle he clutched in his hand, the liquid foaming over the lip. The third person, still hidden to Deanna by the hood of a black cloak, raised their head from their phone at their friend's voice. Deanna smiled as she approached. 

“Actually," she replied, "I’m looking for my sister who lives here. Samantha Winchester? Do you know which room she’s in?” She asked, pulling the jacket off from around her, folding and placing it in her arms. 

“Sam? Oh she’s--”

“No offense or anything,” Mario began as she stood up, “but no way are we gonna tell you that. You could be, like, a murder or something.” Deanna rolled her eyes and sighed, pulling her wallet from where it sat tucked inside the jacket pocket. She slotted her nail into the card section, peaking at them carefully, and pulled out her real Driver’s license.

“Deanna Winchester,” She reported as she handed Mario the card, “And no offense or anything,” she echoed, as the girl turned the laminated plastic over in her hands, “but this is an emergency, and I’m kind of in a hurry.” She placed her hand out, signaling for Mario to give her the card back.

“Upstairs. Room twenty-three I think.” She disclosed. Deanna took off down the carpeted hallway and toward the staircase. 

“I doubt she's in there though!” Luigi called to her from over his shoulder. 

Deanna knocked a sweaty hand against the door numbered twenty-three. She pulled her fist down from the old wood, keeping it balled up, clenching and unclenching it as she shook her leg nervously, her ankle twisting up and down in her heeled shoe. She swallowed hard as the seconds passed, attempting to coat her dry throat. She heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the doorway. The door swung open and a tall man in a long, brown wig, and dressed in a white unruly wedding dress peered down at her. He regarded Deanna before speaking.

“Can I help you?” He asked, his brows pulled together.

“Uh, yeah.” She cleared her throat, “Um, I’m looking for my sister... Is Sam here?” The man, confusion plastered upon his face, turned toward the room behind him as he opened the door wide to reveal a tall woman with long brown hair dressed in dark casual attire, rising from a chair to look over the man's shoulder. 

Deanna hadn't seen Sam in almost three years and looking at her now, she could see just how much time had passed. Sam's hair had grown down to her ribs and she appeared to have had a second growth spurt. The last time Deanna had seen her, Sam had still been her  _ little _ sister, now, however, she appeared to tower over her even in the flat doc martens she had on her feet. The bewilderment in Sam's face caused Deanna's stomach to flip. She licked her lips and feigned bravado. 

"You gonna invite me in or…" she trailed off, her eyes narrowed. The man stood aside, leaving the door ajar as if inviting Deanna to enter.

"What do you want?" Sam asked as she strode to meet Deanna in the doorway, blocking her entrance. Deanna let out a single humorless chuckle.

"Trust me this isn't a conversation you want to be having while standing". Sam sighed and rubbed at her eye, causing the sleeve of her black hooded sweatshirt to fall from her wrist, exposing a tattoo of the third pentacle of the moon from the book "The Key of Solomon", that matched the tattoo on Deanna's own forearm. Sam stood aside and wordlessly gestured for Deanna to enter, then rolled her eyes before closing the door after her older sister.

"Nice digs," Deanna remarked as she eyed the small bedroom. The room was relatively bare beyond what looked like a poster for a heavy metal band Deanna had never heard of pinned to the wall above the bed head, and a few drawings that littered the white wooden desk over in the corner, still, the room itself was relatively large and the bed, on which the man now sat, looked somewhat sturdy. The bedding looked fluffy and inviting to Deanna after days of sleeping in the cramped backseat of the Impala.

"What are you doing here, D?" Sam asked, her voice brimmed full of frustration. Deanna spun around and grinned at the costumed man on the corner of the bed.

"You gotta excuse my sister, she's socially inept." She extended her hand toward him. "I'm Deanna. What's your name?" She asked, pitching her voice in her best imitation of a preschool teacher. Sam sighed and plonked herself back into the brown armchair again. 

"Jesse." He stated, hesitantly grasping the blonde girl's hand, "Uh, I didn't know Sam had a sister." The two of them stared down at Sam, whose own eyes trained up at Jesse, silently pleading for his understanding.

"Well you know Sam, she doesn't like to brag," D explained sarcastically before clearing her throat. "So… Anyway, Jess, now that we're great friends and all, I hate to be rude but do you mind giving me and my sister a moment alone?" Sam shook her head. 

"No, D. Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of him." Deanna swallowed hard before nodding slowly to herself and walking over to the seat at the desk. She lifted the wooden chair and waddled it over to sit in front of her younger sister.

"It's about Dad'', Deanna began, her eyes searched Sam's. Sam shrugged nonchalantly, implying for her to continue. D sighed, heat spread through her chest as she tried to keep her composure, her heart, which had been beating rapidly all evening, was reaching new extremes as she opened and closed her mouth in a desperate attempt at willing herself to speak. She glanced over at the stranger in the room silently imploring him to give her and her sister some much-needed space but unfortunately Jesse simply stared at them, looking frustratingly more emotionally invested in what D could possibly have to say than Sam was. "Okay..." Deanna widened her eyes. She took a deep breath in and swallowed before letting a large breath out and shrugging. "Dad's dead." She clasped her hands together in her lap and pulled her lips into a thin line. Deanna glanced up at Jesse. "Now, do you wanna give us a moment?"

The silence grew between the three of them as Jesse's eyes flicked between the two sisters. Deanna fixed her gaze upon her younger sister, watching as Sam's face slowly contorted into a look of pure grief. Sam exhaled sharply and rose from her place on the chair. 

“I need a drink” she murmured and as if in a trance she headed for the doorway. She turned back toward the room as her hand reached the doorknob. “You guys coming?” Sam asked. Deanna looked to Jesse who face seemed to echo the concern that she herself felt.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she replied as she followed her sister back out into the hallway, Jesse in toe. The tall man rushed past the smaller sister and took his place at his girlfriend's side.

"Babe, are you sure you want me to come? Do you maybe want to talk to your sister alone?" Jesse asked in a hushed tone.

"You spent days trying to get me to come out for drinks tonight and now  _ you're _ ditching  _ me _ ?" Sam's voice echoed down the hall as Deanna scanned the area she placed her tongue against her teeth absentmindedly, feeling awkward and out of place.

"No! I'm just saying it seems like you guys have a lot to catch up on. You can both come have drinks with Brandy and the rest of the guys when you're ready?" He put his hand on Sam's shoulder stopping her and ducked his head, forcing her to meet his eyes. Deanna licked her lips and got out her phone, her background a photo of an old photograph of sam, her mom, and her huddled together when she was four years old. Deanna heard Sam sigh while she unlocked her phone and stared at her apps trying to look busy. Sam looked at her older sister and shook her head before turning back to her boyfriend.

"Fine," she groaned and placed her hand upon the side of Jesse's face, leaning her head towards his and pecking him on the lips. Deanna placed her phone back into her jacket. 

"We good?" She asked, raising her brows as if she hadn't heard the couple's entire conversation. Sam nodded but didn't reply and the three continued down the stairs and out into the cold night without speaking. Once outside Jesse was the first who spoke, this time addressing Deanna as she pulled John’s oversized jacket back on.

"I'm gonna head off but you are welcome to join us later. I'd love to exchange some embarrassing stories about Sam with you". Sam hit Jesse's arm playfully.

"Thanks." Sam nodded sarcastically.

"Oh, man, you have no idea. I'll start writing a list, beginning with what happened when Sammy got drunk for the first time when she was fourteen, and why she's so deathly afraid of clowns." Deanna smirked at her younger sister and wiggled her brows. Jesse's eyes widened as he mouthed the word fourteen silently at his girlfriend. She shook her head in reply, placed her hands upon the man's shoulders, and turned him, before moving her hands to rest upon his upper back, pushing him forward, lightly.

"Jesse has to go now". She smiled as he chuckled at her over his shoulder. 

"Alright, you girls have fun!" He called back, shaking his head as he trudged off down the sidewalk. Deanna inhaled deeply feeling the tension in the air immediately rise in the man's absence. She turned to her sister.

"So, we walking until we find a place, or do you have a local haunt?" She asked. Sam's eyes flicked toward the pavement.

"There's a place a few blocks away." She replied and swiveled around on her foot, her long black skirt swishing around her calves as she trudged down the sidewalk in the opposite direction from where Jesse had vanished. 

"Great". Deanna responded to herself as she watched her sister's retreating form. Shaking her head, she broke into a light jog to catch up.

Once inside the bar, if you could even call it that, Deanna took off her dad's jacket again and clutched it protectively to her chest. Her eyes scanned the room as she let out a low whistle. 

“This place looks like a set from Star Trek,” she said to her sister, a brow raised. Sam shook her head then grimaced as she led them through the crowd of people in assorted Halloween costumes, and toward a two-person table in the back corner of the neon-lit dance floor. Deanna slid herself gracelessly into one of the two white plastic egg chairs, and picked up a drinks menu, trying to focus on the price of the drinks while loud, chaotic-sounding hyper pop rang out through the room. A man in a white v-neck, black jeans, and red devil horns, sporting a tea towel slung over his shoulder and a notebook in his hands approached them. 

“Hey, Samantha!” He beamed, his eyes flicking too and from Sam to Deanna.

“Hey, man! How’s your night going?” Sam asked. 

“Oh, you know, it’s Halloween!” He responded, yelling over the music and feigning enthusiasm. Sam nodded with equal energy. 

“Tell me about it.” She yelled, “This is my sister Deanna,” she amended, once seeing the impatient look upon the older sister's face. 

“Ryan!” The man stated, fumbling to hold his pen and notebook in one hand so he could then extend the other toward Deanna. 

“How you doing!” She smiled, placed her hand in his holding his gaze then slowly pulled her hand back. Ryan shook his head, breaking her gaze, and licked his lips, smiling. 

“Uhh… well I’m very horny” He stated, pointing to the red plastic headband sitting atop his brown hair. He chuckled at his own joke as Dianna shook her head and smiled smugly. Ryan glanced back at Sam before clearing his throat. “What can I get for you ladies tonight.” 

“Well, Ryan” Deanna began before Sam could answer, “I’ll start with your number, and then maybe we can see about you getting me a tall glass of Sex on the Beach?” Sam rolled her eyes. Ryan’s eyes widened and he glanced around as he chuckled in disbelief. 

“Sure…  _ Sure _ ,” he stated, more strongly the second time. He cleared his throat again “And you Sam?” Sam sighed. 

“A gun, so I can shoot myself,” She scoffed. Ryan laughed. 

“How about I get you the usual instead,” he said winking. He turned back to Deanna and shook his head again, smiling as he twisted on his heel and snaked his way back through the crowded dance floor toward the bar. 

“Really?” Sam asked once he was gone.

“What?” Deanna questioned, trying not to smile. Sam shook her head again. “Come on Sam, life’s short,” D stated, her eyes squinting at her sister playfully. Sam’s eyes snapped up to gaze at Dianna causing her heart to sink. She felt her smile fade.

“Yeah.” Sam pulled her lips thin as she searched Deanna's face. Deanna breathed in deeply.

“So,” she began, trying to change the subject, “How's college life? Banging any mustachioed English professors? That is what people go to college for right?” Sam scrunched up her face. 

“God, maybe in, like, eighties porn or bad soap operas.” She huffed. “It’s good, though. I, uh-- I scored a one-seventy-four on my LSAT’s... so that’s kind of cool”. Sam looked through the crowd as if hoping for Ryan to hurry up and return with their drinks.

“I’m guessing that’s a good thing?” Deanna asked, following Sam’s line of sight out into the sea of unrecognizable bodies.

“Out of one-eighty” Sam clarified, Deanna’s stomach pulled itself into a knot and her heart grew warm. She nodded. 

“Wow, Sammy that’s really impressive”. She swallowed hard as Sam smiled awkwardly, avoiding her older sister's eyes. 

“Thanks,” She nodded, still watching the huddled bodies on the dance floor. “So, uh, what about you? Been up to anything new lately?” Deanna brought her eyes to her sister before training her gaze down toward the table between them. She picked absentmindedly at the dirt and blood hidden behind her french manicure as she attempted to come up with a response that her sister would want to hear. Sam’s eyebrows lowered as she turned her attention back toward the woman across from her, waiting for a response to her overwhelmingly simple and casual question.

“Well, you know me” Deanna stated, regaining her composure and smiling, “Same ol’, same ol’.” Sam nodded. “Anyway, tell me more about this Jesse character. How’d the two of you meet.” Sam shook her head, her eyes glazed over and her lips upturned slightly as she got lost in a memory.

“Uh, our mutual friend Brandy set us up, I guess.” She smiled. Deanna drummed her nails against the table. 

“Brandy, huh? She happen to ride pole for coin?” Sam’s eyes widened and Deanna shrugged, smiling. “Come on. Brandy, really? Who names their kid that?” Samantha shook her head as Ryan appeared seemingly out of nowhere, placing a drink each in front of them.

“Can we order another two each while you’re over here?” Sam asked “It’s gonna be a long night.” Ryan raised his brows.

“Sure,” he stated and smiled at Deanna knowingly, before retreating. Deanna raised her red and orange beverage off the napkin and took a large swig before placing the glass down on the table and lifting the napkin, waving it toward her younger sister. She stuck her tongue out slightly between her red lips as she smiled, displaying the name Ryan and a telephone number written in black ink, smudged by a ring from the base of her drink. Sam rolled her eyes while she sucked her blue drink through the paper straw. 

The two drank their drinks in silence while they watched the strangers around them enjoying their night out. Couples grinded against each other and friends screamed and hugged as they reunited. Deanna tried to imagine that this was the kind of life Sam had been living over the last few years, that her biggest stress would have been relationship drama and finishing essays in time for early morning classes. Deanna sighed, as she tried to push down the envy and rage that bubbled away inside of her. Ryan was back with a silver drinks platter before the girls had finished their first drinks, he placed the tray upon the table.

“Can I get you anything else before I head back to the danger zone?” He asked, smiling and flipping open his little book.

“I think that’ll be good for now,” Sam yelled at him, a hand cupping her mouth.

“Alright, well call me if you need anything” he nodded, pausing to wink suggestively at Deanna and circling back through the crowd. 

Deanna downed the last of her first drink and made a start on the second glass, her head had started to feel lighter. Sam continued to sip at first her drink, she appeared deep in thought.

“So dad, huh?” She finally breached, Deanna raised her eyes, hesitantly.

“Uh, yeah” she threw back another large gulp. 

“How’d it happen?” Sam’s voice was barely audible over the loud hectic rhythm. Deanna’s hands shook as she sculled the rest of her second drink, she placed the glass down upon the table and caught her breath before replying.

“Demon. The one that got mom.” She sniffed, dragging her gaze up toward her sister. Sam’s breath caught. 

“The one that-- How do you know?” Deanna chuckled humourlessly.

“Cause I was goddamn  _ there _ , Sammy.” She bit, eyeing her sister. Sam’s face fell and Deanna licked her lips and closed her eyes tightly, sighing. “We were closing in on it.” She glanced back up at her sister, trying to calm herself down “We heard rumors of a Demon, one with yellow eyes. The--” Deanna cleared her throat, “The same M.O. as with mom.” She shook her head, “But this demon, Sam, it’s not like anything we’ve ever faced before. They were everywhere. I--” Deanna stared at the drink in front of her for a moment “They were shadow demons, ripped him apart like it was  _ nothing _ .” Deanna continued to keep her eyes trained to her glass. 

“How’d you get out?” Sam asked after a long stretch of quiet. Deanna shook her head, a tear rolled to the top of her cheek before she swatted it away and sniffed. 

“I uh--” She cleared her throat again “I managed to light the flare dad had in his hand. Scared ‘em off long enough for me to run away.” her voice wavered. “God, I--” she hung her head as her eyes began to leak. “I don’t even know if he was dead when I left, Sam.” she sniffed. “It was horrible,” she sucked in a ragged breath.

“I’m sure there was nothing you could’a done, D,” Sam said, her voice full of genuine warmth, sounding truly like the Samantha that D remembered for the first time all evening. Deanna had another attempt at clearing the lump from her throat and wiped under her eyes with the corner of Ryan's napkin, knowing that her mascara had no doubt run tracks down her face. 

“Yeah,” Deanna replied softly, not certain if she believed it. Forgetting all about the phone number, she scrunched the napkin in her hand and tossed it aside.

“You, uh-- You have a funeral?” Sam asked, carefully. Deanna smiled, sadly. 

“You mean, did I go back and burn the body? Yeah, Sam, I dealt with it.” She stated coldly, raising her third drink to her lips. 

“That’s not what I meant! Fuck, D are you so far removed from the real world that you forgot that people use funerals for closure!? Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to be there? To mourn him with you!?” D scoffed. 

“What the hell kind of closure could you possibly need? And as for mourning, you practically hated the guy!” Sam’s mouth fell open.

“Sure we butt heads, D, but do you honestly think I wanted him dead. He’s our father!” Deanna rolled her eyes. 

“ _ Maybe,  _ if you cared about him as much as you think you did, we wouldn’t be here, right now.” D spat. Sam flinched at her older sister's words, her face full of hurt. Deanna's heart sank.

“Sam, I--”

“No.” Samantha nodded slowly, her eyes upon the drink in front of her. “Don’t try and pretend that you didn’t mean to say that like that isn't what you’ve been thinking this entire time.” She sculled her drink, refusing to meet her sister's eyes. Deanna closed her eyes again, this time feeling the room dance around her from the alcohol, she breathed in trying to calm herself, reminding herself that she was there for a reason, that she had to protect her younger sister. She sighed and opened her eyes. Sam stared at her blankly.

“Are we done here, Deanna? I kind of wanna go meet up with my friends.” D let out a single sarcastic laugh. 

“Yeah. No, sure! Let's go hang out with the cast of Euphoria. We can all pour one out for dad together between talking about our podcasts, and swapping stories relieving the good ol’ days.” She replied sarcastically. Sam pushed her last drink toward her sister and stood.

“You don't have to come”. She stated, looking down at Deanna, her eyebrows high. Deanna pulled herself out of the chair and balanced John’s jacket on her arm as she inhaled dramatically and lifted the last of their drinks. 

“Lead the way.” She said gesturing in front of them with the blue beverage.

Sam weaved them through the crowd toward the bar where, once there, she told their table number to a small woman with red hair. After paying for the both of them, Samantha continued toward the door, Deanna followed along behind, occasionally stumbling as she tried to drink and walk at the same time. She shot the remaining beverage as she reached the door and smiled at the bouncer.

“Here you go, man,” she said, handing him the empty glass. He looked at it confused for a moment.

“Uh, wait a minute, hey! No.” He began as she ducked out into the night air, the freezing wind slapping her in the face. She blinked as her eyes began to burn from the cold, and pulled on her brown jacket while Sam waited impatiently to the side of the concrete path. The two sisters then headed back the way they came, past the college housing and around the corner. Deanna tried to focus as she followed her younger sister. She attempted to preorganize her sentences in her head, licking her lips to coat them from the drying bite of the chilly wind. She needed to come up with a way to tell Sam the whole story and she needed to do it fast. The longer the two were together, the more things seemed to be going pear-shaped and the more likely that Sam would end up throwing a drink in her face, telling her she hated her, and that she never wanted to see her again. Deanna skipped artlessly in her heels to catch up with her sister's heavy-footed steps.

“Would you slow down a little, Sam?” she called out into the street while Sam waited at a pedestrian crossing, half a block away. A couple dressed as linen ghosts, walking in the opposite direction swiveled their heads around as they passed, in an attempt to see who Deanna was yelling at. “Yeah, yeah, keep it moving.” She rattled off at them and started to jog to reach the lights in time. She came to a stop at the other side of the road, grabbing her sister's shoulder. “You know if you’re trying to ditch me, you could just tell me to fuck off!” Sam turned and blinked down at her, her eyes full of tears. “Oh,” Deanna muttered. Sam sniffed. 

“It’s whatever.” She said, running her hand over her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Deanna signed.

“It’s not your fault, you know. Dad, he knew how this whole thing was gonna go down. Sure, maybe he hoped he’d gank the thing that killed mom first, but at the end of the day, even he knew how this was gonna end.” Sam’s lip wobbled and she exhaled deeply, turning her head away. Deanna’s mouth formed a thin line as pulled her sister toward her, placed her arms around her shoulders, and hugged her against herself. She felt Samantha’s body shaking up and down quickly beneath her, in time with her sobs. Deanna rocked her sister, gently rubbing her back as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk. The only sounds were her sister's ragged breaths, distant chatter, and the muffled throbbing of faraway music. After a moment Sam sniffed hard and pulled back, smiling sadly at her sister. 

“You good?” Deanna asked, staring into Samantha's eyes. She nodded in response, her lips pulled into a tight line. “Alright,” D began, knocking her hip against her sister's thigh. “Let's go see what the other half calls a good time”. Sam huffed out a laugh and shook her head. She began walking again but slower now so that her sister could follow along beside her.

“I’m not like other girls,” Sam said, pitching her voice lower to match her sisters. She giggled, pleased with herself causing Deanna to join in, rolling her eyes.

“Alright... okay.” Deanna pouted when Sam's laughter continued, “Yeah, you’re hilarious, laugh it up”. Deanna smirked, shaking her hair around on her shoulders. Sam’s eyes crinkled in the corners as she caught her breath, sighing dramatically. She pushed on a glass door beside her and into the hallway of what looked like an apartment complex. 

“Where the hell are we even going?” Deanna asked, taking in the huge crystal chandelier that hung atop a desk at the center of the room. Sam smiled over at her and continued walking toward the woman that sat at the desk engrossed in her phone. 

“Hi. Uh, party for Brandy?” Sam stated, the lady jumped and dropped her phone suddenly as if she’d been snuck up on. Deanna raised a brow at the woman's lack of awareness skills. 

“Um, just a second” The lady said as she rose to her feet and scanned a piece of paper at the desk. “Brandy, sure. Um, that's just fifteen dollars each, today.” She said smiling up at them. Deanna snapped her head toward Sam. 

“You gotta pay to get in?” she hissed under her breath causing the desk lady's smile to waver. Sam huffed at her sister and pulled her wallet from her pocket. “Wait, no. I got it.” Deanna said fumbling to get thirty dollars from her own wallet. She eyed the woman as she reluctantly handed over the cash. The lady pulled out a stamp and stamped one of their wrists each, atop their matching second pentacle of Saturn tattoos. The two Winchester's headed up the stairs. 

“You know”, Sam began turning back toward her older sister, the warm light reflecting in her eyes, “We actually got in for half price because of Brandy.” She chuckled as her sister's eyes widened in shock. 

“Thirty dollars?! Just to get into the club? Is that some kind of fucking joke?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Man, I gotta get in on this shit." She chuckled, "Yeah, what you do is, you pay for a hotel room, then scam rich people to pay thirty bucks a pop just to party in it. It’s fucking genius.” Sam laughed. 

“Do you even know any rich people, D?” She questioned, a smug smile on her face. Deanna narrowed her eyes and raised her brows.

“Do you even know--”, She mimicked her sister in a high-pitched voice, “Shut up!” She smiled. Sam smiled and rolled her eyes. The two stood at the top of the stairs. Sam looked around uncertainty. “What is it?” Deanna asked. 

“Uh,” Sam raised her head and bobbed herself around trying to glimpse back down the staircase. She turned to her sister. “The bouncer’s not even here?” She laughed. Deanna's stomach sank as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “I guess we didn’t even have to pay after all”. Sam commented, pushing down on the crash bar and opening up the heavy metal door.

“Wait, Sam!” Deanna called out as Sam stepped forward, onto the rooftop bar. Samantha froze in the doorway, her mouth parted. Deanna rushed forward and pushed her sister aside. Bile rose in her throat. She held her hand to cover her mouth, trying to keep her drinks inside her as her eyes roamed around and she took in the scene. 

In what appeared to be the precise center of the rooftop was a large, bloody pile of disassembled human body parts rearranged to create some kind of monstrous figure, like a many-limbed, grotesque effigy. Severed arms, their fingers all broken into bizarre angles, rose like the back of an unearthly throne, presented uniformly atop a seat of various blood coated torsos that rested upon a base made of many intersecting legs. Frightened, staring, dismembered heads were placed with care in a neat row facing forward, between their feet. Atop the throne, in the very center of the mutilated statue, sat Jesse. He was more or less in one piece and yet completely nude, and his body had been crudely carved into with a sharp object. His eyes had been poorly removed and the corners of his mouth were cut into a haunting smile, an unmistakable message was carved onto his torso. After the initial shock, Deanna fumbled for her sister as hastily as she could manage and turned her away from the horrific scene but she knew it was already much too late to save her from the visual, not to mention the foul stench. 

Sam was silently crying when she pushed D aside, she staggered over to the corner of the room, placing her hand upon the deep grey wall for balance. She lurched forward and projectile vomited blue sludge all over her feet. Deanna pinched her nose and swallowed hard, trying to get her brain moving again. The haze of the alcohol was both a blessing and a curse, now that she felt distanced enough to remember how to deal with these kinds of situations in a detached manner, but intoxicated enough that the ripe smell of blood and her sister's reeking vomit was causing her stomach to do continuous backflips. 

“Okay”, she said, curling her hand into a fist, “You gotta get out of here, ask the chick at the desk if you can borrow her phone, call 911” she pushed herself in between her sister and the wall and tried to maneuver her head in line with where her sister was staring blankly, eyes impossibly wide, at the rendered surface in front of her. “Tell them you’re Christine McVie, the usual,” Deanna raised her voice, “Sam! You hear me?!” she grabbed her sister's shoulder, hard. 

“Coming for who?” Sam muttered, her eyes continued to look through Deanna as if she weren’t there. D scrubbed her hand across her brow. 

“What matters right now is you getting the hell out of here, Sammy. Okay? You just spewed your DNA all over a crime scene.” She searched Sam's face, begging her to listen. “You gotta go!” She repeated. “Call the cops and go straight home, you hear me?” Sam’s eyes focused slightly as she nodded. “Good.” Deanna let go of a breath she had not realized she’d been holding. “Good. Okay, take this with you.” She stated as she reached up the skirt of her dress and pulled out a long, thin revolver, from a hidden garter holster. “You see anything, you shoot it, okay.” 

“I--” Sam shook her head again then more spew trickled out of her mouth and onto the floor between them, splashing up on Deanna’s legs and causing her own stomach to pulse. She gagged and coughed before regaining her composure and shaking her sister's shoulders. 

“Go, Sammy! Now!” She breathed. Sam pulled her shoes off as if working on autopilot and shook off whatever puke remained on them. In her socks she walked back toward the door, avoiding her vomit as she stepped, her eyes glazed over again, staring directly in front of her as she moved.

Once hearing the click of the door, confirming that her sister had left, Deanna ran toward the sink behind the bar and unloaded the contents of her own stomach. The foamy brown liquid that had once been their separate colored choices of cocktail, now burned the inside of her throat as it exploded from within her. Dianna sniffed and coughed as she tried to settle her stomach. She searched the area behind the bar for a cloth and turned on the tap, letting the water run continuously and washing away any evidence that she was there then trudged back to the puddle of her sister's vomit. She spent the next few minutes mopping up the goo, walking to and from the sink while trying desperately to keep herself from hurling again. Finally, when content with her work, she turned off the tap and found a full bottle of Gin and a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind the bar. Deanna walked back to the area Sam had contaminated and threw the bottles as hard as she could against the ground, smashing them. She sniffed and surveyed the scene, wiping the dollops of spew from her legs with the rag, and turned to look, for a second time, at the gruesome scene behind her. A shiver ran through her, causing her to physically convulse as she read the words that were carved upon the mutilated corpse of Samantha’s now dead boyfriend  _ “I am coming for you next” _ . 

Deanna pulled her heels off and held them in her hand with the filthy rag. She ran down the stairs and past the lady at the desk, who was now crying on the phone to somebody about how she was “scared to go look” and she wasn’t “really sure what was happening”. Deanna raced past her and out into the cold fall air. Her heart raced as she considered the possibility that a fancy rooftop club like that may have video cameras, and she had to remind herself that she had, in fact, done nothing wrong. The only thing she was guilty of was maybe making them seem more suspicious by trying to erase any evidence that they were ever there. She mentally kicked herself as she considered that she possibly could have made things worse before her mind screamed an image of Jesse's carved chest at her, reminding her that they’d be vulnerable out in the open crowd of a police station and that keeping a low profile was now the only guaranteed way to ensure she could keep her sister safe. 

She pulled her phone from her pocket and selected Samantha’s address from the list of most recently searched in her GPS app. She followed the directions needlessly back from where she came, walking slowly and calmly in an attempt not to attract any unwanted attention. 

Once she finally came upon the familiar building she ducked inside quickly, trudged through the hallway, and up the stairs. She was too shocked to notice the numbness of her feet until they started to burn as they gradually heated up as if they were berating her for running around on the frigid pavement. She knocked at room number twenty-three quietly. Her hand shook as she lowered it.

“Sammy? It’s me.” Deanna murmured, resting her forehead against the wooden door. The door opened beneath her causing her to fall forward and stumble into the room. She looked up to see Sam standing above her, tear-stained and breathless. Deanna relaxed at the sight, exhaling at the relief of the tension that had built up in her upper back.

“What the hell is going on, D!?” Samantha asked, her eyes flitted across her older sister's face, demanding an answer. Deanna closed the door behind her and walked into the comfort of Sam’s room. 

“You got any salt?” she asked, decidedly ignoring her sister’s question until she was satisfied with their current level of safety. Samantha rolled her eyes and sniffed as she bent down to flip the fuzzy rectangular rug that she had by her front door, revealing a devil's trap drawn on the underside of it with what looked like a Sharpie. Deanna nodded at the rug and raised her chin toward the window as if to ask about how they would be protected if a demon decided to scale the outside wall. Samantha shook her head and retrieved a large bag of salt from under the bed, the corner of which was already torn open. She poured a line across the windowsill before dropping the bag of salt, the contents spilling all over the floor, as she slumped down onto her bed, her head buried in her hands. She gasped for breath. “Hey,” Deanna raced to crouch in front of her and began rubbing her sister's arm as she sobbed. 

The night continued the same, Deanna avoided talking as Samantha cried. Eventually, Sam passed out and Deanna pulled the blanket out from where it lay, trapped beneath her sister, and placed it gently upon her in a futile attempt to stop her from shaking. She also placed a pillow underneath Sam's head, lifting it slowly and trying not to wake her. D then climbed into the bed beside her sister, the lights still on, the colt clasped in her hand and attempted to get some rest. Throughout the night Sam’s sporadic ragged breaths in her sleep caused the oldest Winchester’s eyes to spring open and her grip to tighten around the gun each time she’d seemed to start to drift off. 

When the morning came and Sam began to stir and Deanna realized that she must have eventually fallen asleep. She inhaled deeply and forced herself to sit up. Her head pounded and her stomach burned. Her body wanted nothing more than to lie back down for a few more hours of sleep and yet her mind jolted awake as it flooded with memories from the last few weeks. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling the mascara peel off into balls of black flakes onto her hands as she walked over to the mini-fridge under the desk and pulled it open, grateful for the sight of a full glass water bottle. She twisted the cap off and downed the beverage, only able to consume a few gulps before deciding it was actually making her feel much worse, and placed it back in its allocated slot in the fridge. The rattle of the glass jars against the bottle, clinking against one another as the door shut, caused Samantha to groan and roll over, her eyes now fully open. Deanna walked over to the bed and sat on the corner, the mattress rose around her as she scooted herself down and lay beside her sister. Her brows lowered.

“It was the demon that got mom and dad, wasn’t it?” Sam asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Deanna nodded slowly and her heart burned in her chest. “And now it's coming for us?” D swallowed hard, her eyes searching her baby sisters. She nodded again, slower this time. “Why?” Sam asked. Deanna eyed the small white threads that made up the pillowcase beside her.

“I don’t know, Sam,” she lied, her face showing the authentic devastation that she felt.

“What are we gonna do?” Sam asked. A tear ran down her eye and over her nose where it dripped onto the pillow. Deanna closed her eyes, gathering herself before opening them again.

“I was gonna visit dad’s storage unit. See if I can figure out if he knows-- uh,  _ knew _ anything about how to make more bullets for this thing.” She said holding up the colt. Sam sniffed.

“What’s so special about that?” Deanna huffed, a small smile graced her lips.

“It’s so fuckin’ awesome, Sam. It can kill basically anything. Dad got it off that chick-- remember old lady Elkins?” Sam shook her head slowly. “Yeah,” Deanna smiled, “You might'a been too young.” She giggled, “She wasn’t even that old, I don’t think. Dad stole it from her, pretty sure he slept with her to get it”. 

“That’s messed up” Sam sniffed again. Deanna shrugged. 

“We had a lead on Yellow Eyes and no idea how to stop the cunt. It was either sleep with her or kill her”. She stated matter of factly. Tears welled up inside the brims of Sam’s eyes again. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

“It’s okay, I know”. Samantha sniffed, again. “I’m gonna go have a shower,” she stated, then pulled herself up off the bed and made her way over to her built-in closet, pulling out clothes and a towel. “You want one? They’re communal?” Deanna nodded. 

“Yeah, uh, just let me go grab some clothes from Baby.” She said, bouncing herself upon the bed and into a standing position. Sam turned toward her older sister sharply.

“Not to be a huge baby or anything but do you mind, not leaving me right now? I’m kind of freaking out about the whole “ _ everyone I know was just murdered”  _ thing… not to mention the ominous as fuck message carved in--” she lowered her head and spluttered as she burst into tears again. Deanna was immediately at her side holding her in her arms. 

“Hey. It’s okay. I promise you I’m gonna hunt down the demon that did this, okay, Sammy? I promise.” She muttered into her sister's collarbone. Sam looked down at Deanna, her mouth shook and her eyes filled with darkness, the likes of which Deanna had never seen upon her little sister’s face before.

“Not without me, you’re not.” 

Deanna had asked if Sam was feeling up to walking down to her car with her to get some clothes to which Sam stated that she’d prefer if D would simply borrow some of her clothes instead. Now Deanna stood in front of the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door of Sam’s closet. She flung her arms from side to side around her, John's leather jacket crackled quietly as she moved, her charm necklace flung against her chest. 

“I look like a man,” she said, baring her front teeth in disgust. 

“Thanks” Sam scoffed from where she sat on the corner of her bed, running a hairbrush through her long, dark hair. Deanna pulled at the oversized white button-up, untucking it from her jeans. 

“What, dude. Look at me! I look like a fuckin’ truck driver”. She kicked her leg out and the large dark blue jeans fell down from where they had been placed, scuffing the floorboards. 

“They’re  _ my  _ clothes you’re insulting.” Sam clarified. Deanna rolled her eyes. 

“It obviously looks better on you. This shit doesn’t even fit me!” She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and bent over, brushing her hair down with her fingers.

“You’re the one that chose that outfit…” Sam mumbled. Deanna flipped her head back and tied her hair in a ponytail on the top of her head. She turned to her sister, her arms spread. “Better or worse?” Sam shrugged.

“I mean… Better, I guess? You look like butch wear Barbie.” Deanna groaned, flinging her arms down, and turned back toward the mirror. Sam stood, placing her hairbrush into the duffle bag atop her bed. She adjusted her neoprene corset atop her black flare-sleeve dress. 

“Alright, well, we’d better hit the road so we can get something to eat, stat.” Deanna pointed to the duffle bag on the bed. “That everything?” Sam paced over to the wall behind her bed and pulled down the poster, the rings of various crystals on her fingers clunked against the wall.

“Is now,” she replied, rolling the poster up and placing it atop the clothing in her bag. Deanna watched as Sam zipped the bag and threw it across her shoulder. She took one last look at the dorm room before pursing her lips, sighing, and opening the door. Deanna followed Sam into the hallway, turning to close the door behind her, she walked straight into her sister who stood frozen staring down the hall. 

“What the--” 

“Shh!” Sam hissed quietly, maneuvering herself so Deanna could peer around the corner. A man and woman in police uniforms were making their way up the stairs and toward them, their eyes roamed over the stairwell as they walked. Deanna pulled at Sam’s wrist and started walking down the opposite end of the hall. 

“Fire escape?” Deanna murmured below her breath, as she released her sister from her grasp.

“Uh, yeah” Sam swallowed, “window at the end of the hall, next left.” Sam sped up, her long legs taking giant strides.

“Sam,” Deanna whispered, “slower. You look suss” Sam sniffed and turned her head slightly, just in time to see the female cop lift her hand and knock on room number twenty-three. The two sisters turned the corner and ran as quietly as they could toward the window. Sam pulled up the glass framework and stood aside as if gesturing for her sister to go first. Deanna lifted herself onto the metal balcony and leaned herself into the corner, making room for Sam who folded herself in half and climbed out onto the platform beside her. Deanna pulled the rusted metal ladder down and cringed as its joints scraped against itself, squealing loudly as it reached the ground. Sam's eyes were wide with fear from the noise for a moment before she mentally shook herself and climbed down toward the ground. Deanna stood by the window peering through the glass, manically glancing between the hallway and her sister, once Sam made it to the alleyway Deanna raced toward the ladder herself, scurrying down it while her hands and legs shook beneath her. She pushed off and jumped from the fifth last rung and landed awkwardly jarring her ankle. 

“You good?” Sam asked. Deanna brushed the rust on from her hands against her jeans. 

“I fucking hate heights”. She said as she lifted her ankle and rolled it around in circles. Sam pushed at the ladder shaking her head at her sister. The metal screamed once more as their exit disappeared back up into the sky. “This way,” Deanna gestured with her head back toward the street, turning and walking as aloofly as she could manage, only looking back once she had crossed the street, to ensure that Sam was indeed following her and hadn’t fallen back into a sobbing heap in the middle of the street. 

The sisters turned into another alleyway and a smile formed on both of their faces at the sight of the Impala. A weight lifted from Deanna’s shoulders at the sight. She unlocked the door and climbed into the driver's side then leaned over and unlocked the passenger door for Sam before bouncing back up and turning the key in the ignition. Sam threw her bag on the floor of the passenger seat and groaned as she climbed into the car, her heart filled with warmth at the familiar creak and slam sounds from the car doors. Deanna placed her hand on the back of their seat and turned to look out of the back window as she reversed. Her head turned side to side, checking the mirrors as she squeezed the car out of the alley and onto the street, heading off down the road. She sighed. 

“That was a close one”. She grinned widely at the road in front of her, her heart beating a million miles per hour. Samantha let out a single humorless laugh. 

"Yeah, I definitely missed that". Her voice wavered. Deanna glanced at her, her brows lowered. She was unable to tell if Sam was being sarcastic or not. Deanna kept one hand on the wheel and her eyes on the road as she stretched herself over the front seat and opened the glove box. She glanced down for a moment and pulled out a leatherbound book, threw it onto Sam's lap, and pulled herself back up.

“You wanna take a look at that and let me know where the hell it is I’m supposed to be going?” She asked and flicked the indicator, changing lanes to overtake a small hatchback. Sam stared down at the book in front of her.

“Did you… read this?” her voice was low. Deanna swallowed.

“Uh, some of it, yeah.” She sniffed, “Why?”

“I-- it’s just--” She shook her head. “If dad knew--”

“Dad’s dead, Sam. What’s he gonna do? Ground me?” She laughed. “Besides that thing’s the only lead we have if we wanna figure out how to kill Yellow Eyes.” Sam shook her head again, bewildered. 

“I guess I just figured you’d burn it with his body” she explained, turning it over in one hand, examining it in awe.

“Yeah, well, like I said--”

“No, I get it” Sam cut her off. She pulled the corners of her lips down and raised her eyebrows, shrugging to herself, she unclipped the button and turned to the first page. 

“It’s like five pages in or so, he mentions having a storage container back in Lawrence full of burned shit from the house.” D raised her head, trying to see the book in her peripheral. Sam swallowed, slamming the journal closed. Deanna glanced at her younger sister, confused.

“Did--” She closed her eyes in an attempt to control her breathing, “Jesse. You didn’t give him a hunter's send-off?” She opened her eyes, peering down at her sister, “did you?” Deanna sniffed then inhaled shakily, her mouth agape as she searched the road, trying to find her reply. Sam huffed at her sister's lack of response, a tear spilled out of her eye and down her cheek. 

“Sam, I--” Deanna swallowed in an attempt to coat her throat. “I couldn’t. You know I couldn’t” Sam shook her head as it fell into her hands. Sobs ripping through her body. “I’m so sorry, Sam. In an area that crowded--” She cleared her throat, “I had to focus on getting out of there. I had to focus on keeping  _ us _ safe”. Sam wiped at her face and nodded. 

“Yeah,” She managed before another sob erupted from her chest as a gasping breath. 

“I promise you if anything happens. If any of them come back we--  _ I _ \-- will be back to deal with it okay? I  _ promise _ you.” Deanna gripped at the steering wheel tightly, the leather cracking as her knuckles whitened. 

After Sam’s breathing turned to some resemblance of normal she was able to find the page Deanna had referred to and copied the address into her phone's GPS. She flipped a few pages of their father's journal, skimming the contents, before, at the instruction of Deanna, she put it away, back in its place in the glove compartment. Deanna insisted that perhaps Sam should wait until she was feeling better to start delving through their father's mind. Sam seemed to agree, much to D’s relief. 

Sam sat staring out the window blankly as tears periodically streamed silently down her face. After a time, Deanna pulled the Impala into a gas station and drive-through fast-food chain. Post filling the car up and paying, they bought breakfast from the reliable chain store and ate together in the car quietly. Deanna turned on the radio before unwrapping her breakfast burrito, one-handed and Sam pulled herself down in her chair, resting her head against the black leather seat, sniffing between bites of her bland wilted salad. Sam pulled herself up once she finished eating and stared at her sister. 

“D. I don’t think I can do this,” She muttered. Deanna's brows pulled together as she glanced over at her sister. 

“You don't have to finish it if you don’t want to.” She stated, tucking the food in her mouth to the side so she could speak without spraying it everywhere. Sam smiled sadly.

“That’s not what I meant,” She swallowed, “I mean Jesse,” her voice broke. She sighed and inhaled a ragged breath. She went back to staring out the window for a moment before turning back to her sister. “Do you mind if I smoke in here”. Deanna choked on her burrito. 

“You  _ smoke _ !?” She spluttered once she had finally stopped coughing. Sam rolled her eyes. 

“Not tobacco...”

“ _ Weed?! _ ” Deanna’s eyes bulged at the road, she scrunched the last of the burrito into the wrapper and placed it in the brown bag at her feet. “You wanna smoke  _ weed? _ in  _ here _ ?” Deanna laughed wildly. “Weren’t you literally only just having a go at me for just reading Dad’s journal?!” Sam smiled. 

“Yeah… I guess I was.” Deanna shook her head. 

“Yeah. How about I pull over at the next rest stop and you can smoke it then?” She shook her head again, “I can’t believe little Sammy smokes  _ weed _ . What did college do to you?!” She giggled. “What a fuckin’ rebel”, Sam rolled her eyes.

“Okay, yeah. Like you can talk”. Dianna spared a quick smirk at her sister.

“Oh, Nah. I’m a teetotaler; totally straight edge these days.” she snickered, biting at her lips and attempting a serious face. 

“I’m sure ya are.” Sam grinned, “I mean you seem it... I was shocked when you ordered a coffee at the bar last night” Sam beamed. 

“Yeah, I found god so…” She burst into laughter, her eyes crinkling. 

“So, no more special joints before bed?” Sam asked, cocking her head to the side playfully. Deanna licked her lips.

“No way, Sam! Do you think God would approve of a valerian, skullcap, mugwort, and marijuana blend to get me to sleep? Hell, Nah! He didn’t create plants with medicinal properties just for human beings to go out and use them”. Sam’s brows lowered.

“Is that what’s in them?” Deanna shrugged.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Huh.” Sam popped out her bottom lip, “...Am I old enough to try one now?” She smirked.

“Ehhh” Dianna tilted her head diagonally, grinning.

“I promise I won’t tell Dad,” Sam added, spreading her hands over the glove compartment as if shielding prying eyes. Deanna let out a small laugh as her smile slowly faded from her eyes. 

After they stopped and Deanna let Sam smoke one of her own potent sleep-inducing joints, Sam fell asleep in the passenger seat. Deanna stopped at a drive-through to get a triple red-eye and continued on out of California and through Arizona stopping briefly in Albuquerque, parking the side of the road for an hour-long power nap and another gas station meal. She then continued driving on through to Texas finally stopping at their destination in Lawrence. Sam, dead to the world the entire twenty-seven-hour drive, gasped ragged breaths occasionally, reminding Deanna that she would no longer have to make these kinds of trips alone. 

D turned up the radio, blaring "Good Times Bad Times" by Led Zeppelin. Sam jumped in her seat, inhaling deeply as she whipped her head around wildly. Deanna chuckled at her, proud of herself.

"So, we're coming into town." She began, "I figure we've got three options. We check into a motel, get some lunch, have a shower, brush our teeth, maybe I finish that joint?" She glanced at her sister. Sam was still squinting at the world around her as she woke. "Behind door number two, we take our chances at the YMCA, break out the shower shoes, see if we can scrounge up a free feed. Or choice C, there should be some wet wipes and deodorant in the back of you wanna take a whores bath and we see if we can't find some diner on the way." Sam stretched, and grabbed at her neck, rolling it around in a circle. 

"What time is it?" Sam mumbled and fumbled for her phone. She sighed as she read that it one already passed midday. "Uh, the first option, right? Surely you wanna get some shut-eye by now?" She yawned.

"Sure, yeah." Deanna nodded, "I kind of feel like I'm on a roll now though and I feel like if we don't do this now I might chicken out" she admitted, her voice high as if playing off her nervousness as a joke. Sam searched her sister's face for a brief pause and slapped her hands against her thighs.

"Right, tits, slits, and pits it is".

Now feeling more comfortably uncomfortable in her own clothes Dianna pulled the Impala into a parking space. The two sisters paced up and down the long maze of storage containers until finding the one numbered 542 and after sneakily cutting the padlock on the roller door of the storage container and putting the bolt cutters back into the boot of the car Dianna stood back staring at the corrugated metal, wringing her hands. 

"I got it". Sam said, sauntering past her sister and pushed the door up, rolling it in upon itself. The two Winchesters jumped back and flinched involuntarily, half expecting something to jump out at them if not set off some kind of booby trap that John had set up, and yet, nothing happened. In fact, the storage container looked relatively normal. Cardboard boxes of all sizes sat stacked upon each other, the majority of which were cases that were once of beer. Dianna turned to her sister.

“Huh”, her mouth sat parted at the sheer lack of apparent secrets and evidence of anything supernatural. 

“I guess we open them up?” Sam suggested, looking equally perplexed. Deanna pulled the corners of her mouth down, shrugged, and got to searching. There were a lot of documents, papers on car rentals, old number plates, some old baby toys, and board games that Deanna and Sam didn’t recognize; nothing that screamed paranormal. At one point Sam came across a box full of burnt objects that the sisters assumed John had kept purely as some sick kind of memento mori because they had been so badly burnt that beyond something that looked like the charred leg of a dining chair, the items seemed to be unrecognizable. Deanna had all but given up on finding anything that could possibly help their hunt as she opened yet another box full of pages upon pages of John's credit card statements. She sat flipping through the pages looking for any kind of help she could get; any instructions her father could give her from beyond the grave as to what she could possibly do next. Dianna had started to realize that she'd dragged Sam on this insane quest with the promise of vengeance when in reality she didn’t even know where to start. She felt sick as it occurred to her that she had been so convinced that John wouldn’t just abandon her without some kind of orders on how to proceed in the manner of his death, as if he had ever given her cause to believe he would ever go out of his way to make anything easier on her. 

“Wait,” Sam broke the silence. Dianna sniffed as a tear splashed against the paper in her hands. She cleared her throat and turned to her sister. “I think I've got something,” Sam said, displaying a small wooden box with an aquarian star upon it. She retrieved her phone from the pocket of her black pants and Dianna watched silently as her sister typed away. She licked her lips and started reading. “The Aquarian Star, more commonly known as a Unicursal hexagram, is a six-pointed star that represented the Men of Letters.” Deanna’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“You telling me Dad was doing research on mailmen?” Sam scoffed. Sam rolled her eyes. 

“This box actually says, Henry...” She said as she kicked it, “But, no. The Men of Letters. You’ve never heard of them?” She asked.

“You  _ have _ hea-- who am I kidding, of course, you have. Why's it always gotta be men, by the way?” Deanna sighed. Sam smirked and nodded at her sister's comment before replying.

“I mean, I just assumed it was a rumor, like the Illuminati... but I guess they’re more like the Newmasons.” Sam’s eyes lit up in wonder.

“Wait, Newmasons… Like--” She grinned, “like the Stonecutters episode of the Simpsons?” Deanna asked. Sam frowned. 

“Yeah. Sure, like the Stonecutters, D.” She huffed. Deanna raised her hand, beckoning for Sam to toss her the wooden box. Deanna caught it one-handed and turned it over, examining it. She fingered the side and hinged it open while Sam delved back into Henry’s box.

“So, we thinking cursed object or…” Sam’s voice trailed off as she looked up in time to see Deanna sliding open the hidden cache inside the box.

“Uhh, I hope not” She froze then brought her gaze back down to the box and pulled out a large old key. “Great. Now we just gotta find whatever it is that this thing opens”.

“Well, about that.” Sam lifted a scrap of paper from the box. “I’m not sure exactly but surely but I found some coordinates in the bottom of this box.” She shrugged, “Could be worth checking out”. Deanna nodded. 

“It’s only five minutes down the road, right?” She asked, pocketing the key, “I’m not sure I could make it much further than that”. Sam scoffed and typed at her phone again. She smirked at her sister.

“Lebanon, Kansas.” She placed her phone back in her pocket as Dianna rolled her eyes and groaned, “Guess I’m driving?” Deanna nodded overenthusiastically causing a small chuckle from her sister as she lifted the box marked “Henry”. 

“First, we eat!” Deanna remarked stacking the old board games into her arms from the mysterious box of childhood memorabilia and following her sister from the container. Dianna placed the games onto the concrete at her feet and then placed a new lock upon the container’s handle and added the key to the Impala’s keychain. She pulled the wooden box from John’s jacket pocket slowly holding the keychain in her hand. Sam laughed from beside her as she repositioned the Henry box against her hip and shook her head. 

“It won't fit, don't even try.” She snorted. Deanna smiled sheepishly and retrieved the games from the floor. The two sisters snaked their way out of the cloned labyrinth of storage containers and back to the Impala.

  
  
  


When Dianna awoke it was to her sister's giggles. She opened her eyes to find that she could not, in fact, see anything at all. Sam roared as Deanna twisted her head around from underneath the black hood of Sam’s sweatshirt that had been carefully placed upon Dianna’s head backward and fastened behind her with the chords. 

“Is this like one of those hidden base’s hessian bag type’a deals?” Deanna asked, muffled through the thick fabric.

“It’s an escape room scenario” Sam informed her. Dianna ripped the hood from her head.

“What’s my prize?” She asked, blinking at the bright light and wiping a hand over the drool in the corner of her mouth. Sam cocked her head to the side and huffed out a laugh.

“Well, a hidden base, I’m pretty sure”, Sam stated and nodded toward the entrance to a bunker buried in a steep muddy hill beside an old abandoned building. Deanna’s eyes narrowed.

“Looks ominous.” Sam’s brows furrowed as she seemed to consider this. 

“I mean, sure, but so did the key and so far you seem fine”. Deanna pulled open the Impala door and was immediately hit by the cold wind. 

“Fuck” she mumbled to herself as she wrapped her arms around her. Sam climbed out of the opposite side and the two met each other beside the car, staring hesitantly at the rusty metal door. Dianna inhaled, pulling herself together, and marched toward the entrance, she inserted the key and placed her hand upon the handle. She turned toward Sam who stood beside her. “You wait here. No use both of us being killed.” she shrugged. Sam scoffed.

“You’ll have less of a chance of that happening if I’m there with you!” Deanna clenched her jaw and looked at the sky. 

“Sam--”

“D, I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.” Deanna considered throwing a punch then and there; hitting her sister right in the sweet spot and knocking her out for her own safety, then, however, she imagined her sister passed out lying in the muddy concrete in the cold because there was no way in hell that Dianna would be able to move her back to the warmth of the Impala. She sighed.

“Fine.” She growled and pushed the door open. 

The two sisters explored the bunker together, guns raised, head high. They pulled open each door that they came across, searching the corners of the rooms, under the beds, in the cupboards, the showers, behind the gym equipment, and around each and every nook and cranny they could find. The place seemed to be empty, not only that, but it appeared to be coated in a layer of dust, thick enough to assume that nobody had been there in a long time. Now, Samantha and Deanna sat in the library, their eyes wide as they grinned at each other. 

“I knew we’d catch a break in that storage container.” Deanna beamed. Sam nodded.

“Think of all the knowledge this place holds, the shit we never even thought of learning” Sam agreed. She had an assortment of books splayed out in front of her already. Her eyes ran over the titles over and over as if she was struggling to decide where to begin. 

"We’re staying here, right?” Deanna asked, “Cursed or not? Surely there's no way this place could have any bad juju though. It's fuckin’ awesome”. Sam shrugged and pointed to a series of sigils on the floor.

“I mean, it’s clearly warded out the ass so I think it should be fine... but I’m definitely gonna cleanse the place if that's okay with you? I’ve got some homemade smudge sticks and palo santo on my bag if you wanna help”. Deanna nodded, her eyes still wide with awe.

The two went to work cleaning the place, each of them claiming a room as they went. When satisfied with their job they retreated to their bedrooms and passed out. 

The next day the Winchesters woke up bright and early to go to the local supermarket to stock the fridge and pantry with all sorts of supplies. Dianna cooked a huge brunch, vegan for Sam, although D assured her, now that she’d only barely managed to choke down the tofu scramble, that it would be a one-off. Dianna enjoyed cooking, it was something she was good at given her years of practice. John would call her ahead of time from the road on his way back from a hunt, expecting an elaborate home-cooked meal. It was “a woman’s job,” he told her over and over beginning when she was seven years old. 

The women spent the rest of the day wandering their new town. They came upon a homeware store and bought fresh sheets and new toothbrushes, anything they could justify spending money on, elated at the prospect of making the space feel like their own. When home Dianna spent the evening unpacking the remainder of her possessions, placing photographs on her shelf, and storing a few of her cooler, although undeniably more obscure and useless weapons around the room. She stood backward and ran her eyes over her room, more or less content with the prospect of calling this space her own. She grinned as an idea occurred to her and she grabbed at her old shotgun and wandered down to the shooting range. After hitting four bullets into the direct center of the target she pulled the sheet off and walked back to her room, giggling to herself. She tacked the target sheet full of bullet holes upon her bedroom wall and drew a smiley face with giant crosses for eyes and it’s tongue sticking out on it. Pleased with herself, she wandered to Sam’s room, eager to display to her, her genius decor.

“Sammy” she giggled, wrapping her fist on the back of the door. “You gotta come take a look at my poster.” She said, leaning in closer to the door. There was no reply from the other end. Deanna pushed the door open expecting to find her sister asleep in her bed but the room was completely empty; the way it had looked when they had first arrived the day before, all beyond one book sitting open upon the bed. “Sam?!” Deanna called louder over her shoulder as she walked toward the book, her heartbeat thumping hard against her chest. She saw the familiar leather cover framing the tattered paper pages and knew immediately what had happened. She didn't need to see how few pages sat on the right-hand side of the book to guess what entry it had been that Sam had just read.

_ October 3rd, 2019. _

_ Told D about Sam today. She kept insisting we should visit Stanford while we finished off the vamp thing in San Jose. I could tell she wouldn’t want to come back if I let her see her. I would have let her go if I thought there was any chance at all that Sammy could be saved. It's better we keep our distance so we can do what needs to be done i ~~f the time comes~~ when the time comes. There’s no way that mook was lying, after all, I saw to that myself. I wish there was a way things could turn out different, maybe some kind of spell to cleanse the demon blood out of her but I’m not hopeful, I’ve seen too much to be. Either way, I’m glad I told D, she's old enough to know now after all and besides, telling her must have worked because she hasn’t mentioned making the trip out to Palo Alto since.  _

Deanna paced the interior of the bunker calling for her sister but knew it was pointless. Her chest shook as she puffed out shallow, anxious breaths. Finally, she reached the garage and gripped at a metal beam beside her for support as she stared at the empty parking space where the Impala had once been. 

  
  



End file.
